


the ocean is wild and over your head

by nightcalling



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Epilogue, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:07:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,251
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22745266
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightcalling/pseuds/nightcalling
Summary: He dreams of Blake.*Or, an epilogue of sorts.
Relationships: Joseph Blake & William Schofield, Tom Blake & William Schofield
Comments: 4
Kudos: 57





	the ocean is wild and over your head

**Author's Note:**

> Title from “A Safe Place to Land” by Sara Bareilles and John Legend, which I'd long loved before this movie came out, but then I listened to it again afterward, and the lyrics......oof.

He dreams of Blake.

It comes as fragments; a glance over the shoulder, a sun-kissed smile, an innocent laugh.

A hand pulling him up. The palm feels coarse and soft on his own, both heavy and light at the same time. He looks up and is faced with eyes of concern.

“Do you want to go back?”

Maybe it’s selfish, but he thinks he should’ve said yes, and dragged Blake along with him.

“Too late for that,” he says this time. He knows this isn’t real, but Blake’s presence is warm enough to stop his shivering from the breeze. Why is he so cold?

_“Lance Corporal?”_

He runs his fingers down the wet lapels of his jacket and bumps against something in his pocket.

_“Lance Corporal Schofield?”_

The letter. He scrambles to take it out of the tin, but it falls from his grasp and splashes noiselessly into the river below him. He dives after it, an instinct more than an act of will, but it’s too late, it was always too late, and he watches helplessly as water seeps into the envelope like a knife into flesh, like blood into his fingernails, like—

_“Will?”_

He startles awake, and his eyes catch the sun as it slowly makes its way down to the horizon. It’s gentle but almost mockingly so. A beat or two passes by before he registers the weight on his shoulder. He turns to see a hand, then follows the arm to Lieutenant Blake.

They really look so alike.

“We get that a lot.”

Will furrows his eyebrows. “I’m sorry?”

“Back home, people always say—said we look like twins.” Lieutenant Blake blinks slowly, eyelids fluttering shut then opening again. “I suppose it won’t be difficult for them to tell us apart, now.”

Will swallows. “I’m sorry,” he repeats.

Lieutenant Blake shakes his head. “Are you alright? I wanted to let you rest, God knows you deserve it, but then I heard you cry out and saw…” he gestures to his face, “so I thought it’d be best to wake you.”

Will touches his cheeks and feels fresh tears inked over the faded ones. _Fuck._ He moves to stand up, or at least sit up straighter, but Lieutenant Blake eases him back down against the tree.

“It’s okay,” Lieutenant Blake says. “Nightmare?”

Will nods. “It’s been awhile.” He stops. Doesn’t know how much to say.

Lieutenant Blake sits down next to him and offers him a handkerchief. “Tell me.”

“I, well—” He ducks his head down. “The first few weeks, I used to dream every night of my family, of—” _Home_. He clears his throat. “But I’d always wake up to the realization that I wasn’t there, I was _here_ , and having to leave them again and again and again, even in my dreams…it became more unbearable than going back and knowing I’d have to leave them then. It was false hope, almost. So, I taught myself to not dream anymore. It was easy. Just ran myself to exhaustion. If someone offered it, a bottle made it quicker.”

He sneaks a glance at Lieutenant Blake, who only squeezes his shoulder, beckoning him to continue.

“I became good at it. At not dreaming,” he clarifies. “But, Bla—Tom, your brother…he was the dreaming type. He always told me of dreaming about you, about your mother, about going home and making everyone proud, and I thought he was an idiot for clinging onto that because he was so naïve when it came to things like this, but now I know he was the bravest person in the entire 8th for even daring to dream, and I should’ve been there for him, I should’ve—”

He cuts off sharply with an exhale, feeling the life leaving his body. He remembers asking Blake one night, many months after he’d long lost track of time, if there was anyone waiting for him back home.

_“I have my mum and Joe,” Blake said cheerfully. “Joe’s my big brother.”_

_“Nobody else?” He didn’t mean for it to come out crass, but he’s also been told he can be quite tactless at times._

_Blake didn’t seem to mind. “They’re my family. That’s all I need.” He squinted playfully at Will then, nudging gently at his arm. “Not everyone’s settled down like you are.”_

_“Just surprised, is all.”_

_“Why’s that?”_

_“You seem like someone the girls would fancy.”_

_Blake grinned. “You think?”_

_He nodded. “I do.” He’s not one to lie._

_Blake considered this. “Maybe I’ll meet someone when I go back, whenever this bloody war’s over. Or maybe not.” He looked up toward the stars, features painted soft in the moonlight. “Until then, I guess I’ve got you.”_

A pat on his back jolts Will from his memories, and he buries his head into his arms. He breathes once, twice, steadying himself.

“He deserved better than someone who couldn’t keep him safe,” he finishes. The field is quiet save for the distant echoes of the mess tent rumbling deeply behind them and the rapid beating of his own heart. They’d been trained to calm themselves down so they wouldn’t freeze when faced with the enemy, but he was never very good at anything other than sharpshooting. He knows that’s partly why Blake stuck by him, because Blake was a natural at fighting. His only flaw was that he was too kind.

Will shuts his eyes. _It doesn’t do to dwell on it._ But it doesn’t feel right.

The warmth on his shoulder is the only indication that Lieutenant Blake hasn’t left his side. Eventually, Lieutenant Blake withdraws his hand and cool air replaces it.

“Tom always tagged along after me and my friends while we were growing up,” Lieutenant Blake says. “He was one of those boys who needed someone to play with. That might be why he turned out to be such a chatterbox. He got lonely easily, so talking helped him get through the day.”

_Hey, did you hear that story about Wilko? How he lost his ear?_

Will wipes his cheeks with the handkerchief and opens his eyes to face Lieutenant Blake.

“That was Tom’s gift, you know,” Lieutenant Blake continues, smiling fondly. “You’re right, he was always telling funny stories. And yeah, you might’ve wanted to smack him for talking so much, but when you realize he was telling them to cheer people up, well…it made it that much harder to stay annoyed at him.”

_They’ll grow again when the stones rot. You’ll end up with more trees than before._

Will feels himself mirroring Lieutenant Blake’s smile. He can’t help it; it’s difficult not to.

“So, when I said I was glad you were with him…I meant it,” Lieutenant Blake says honestly. Will understands why he holds that rank; one word from him and you’re reassured that things might turn out alright.

“Thank you,” Will says, meaning it.

Lieutenant Blake nods, then stands back up in one practiced motion. He looks down, and after a few seconds, offers an arm. “Come on, let’s get you something to eat.”

Will stares intently at the hand in front of him and wonders if it’s really that easy. He reaches out, and…

Lieutenant Blake’s palm feels nothing like his brother’s. There’s a firmness to his grip that Blake’s didn’t have, but there’s still something familiar about it. Not something tangible, necessarily, but something else. Something…

_You need to trust me._

Will tightens his hold and allows himself to be pulled up.

**Author's Note:**

> Anyway, it's been more than a month and I'm still not over these boys or this movie!!!


End file.
